


Tooth and Claw, Blade and Bow

by QunariRose



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dwarven Carta (Dragon Age), F/M, Freeform, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, It's going to take awhile to get these two together, Minor canon divergence, Past Child Abuse, Slow Burn, rating is for future chapters, there will be smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-18 03:46:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9366617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QunariRose/pseuds/QunariRose
Summary: When a half-elf orphan with nothing to lose is in the wrong place at the wrong time, her life changes forever. A chance meeting with a charming dwarf puts her on a path that will either make or break her. Haunted by a past she can't change, and longing for acceptance, Nelle just wants a place to call home. Instead she gets sucked into a war she isn't prepared to fight.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at a fic; please be kind. Any constructive criticism is always welcome.

Creeping along in the underbrush, she couldn’t help asking herself if this had really been a good idea. Moving on had been necessary, yes, but maybe she would have been better off going it alone. Staying close to a guarded caravan had seemed like the best way to stay safe and not get lost, but maybe it was really just the best way to be stabbed and left for dead in the woods. She had played tag-along a few times before without incident, but this caravan was ridiculously well guarded. During the day, they kept scouts moving silently in every direction looking for trouble. Even hanging back to avoid detection, she had had far too many near misses for comfort. And the nights were even worse. Too many night guards, with too wide of a patrol area to make it possible to slip into camp and ‘borrow’ any supplies. The result was that she was currently hungry, cold, exhausted, and lost.

She was well away from the main encampment, and most of the travelers were asleep this late at night, but she couldn’t risk sleeping herself until all the guards were accounted for and she found a safe place. There were six of them on a rotating schedule, and they patrolled in a complex pattern that she had been watching for the last four nights but still hadn’t fully figured out. She could see four of them, and a fifth had disappeared to the far side of the camp a few minutes ago. The sixth was unaccounted for. Once she figured out where he was, she could shimmy up a tree and sleep for a few hours in relative safety. Easier said than done, it seemed. Minutes became hours, the five guards she had in sight rotated from stationary guarding to active patrol, and still the sixth guard was conspicuously absent. Where was he? In the middle of nowhere there would be no tavern or brothel to draw him. The caravan was well enough supplied that there was no need for him to hunt, even less so at night. Perhaps he had ducked into a tent for a tryst or a nap? They had been on the road long enough without incident to relax a bit, but that seemed unlikely given the overall professionalism of the group.

Fuck. If one of the scouts had gotten suspicious, he could be lying in wait, expecting her to make a move. _Fuck_. She was definitely going to get stabbed and left for dead. The animal part of her brain urged her to move, to get as far away as possible as quickly as possible. But that kind of thinking had gotten her into this mess in the first place. It was dark. She was well hidden in the brush. If she didn’t move, they probably wouldn’t find her. All she had to do was wait. They’d move on in the morning as usual, and she wouldn’t. Simple. She’d hang back for a day, try to forage some food, and get back on the road tomorrow. Easy. Just stay awake, stay alert, and wait.

 

#

 

When she woke, it was full day. Careful not to move at all, she observed the campsite. It was empty. The wagons and tents were all gone; trampled grass and the dark stain of the fire pits were the only sign that anyone had been there at all. Good. She waited a few more moments, tensing and relaxing her muscles that ached from sleeping on the ground. When she finally rose, she remained in the shadows, keeping to cover more out of habit than any real belief that danger lurked. Cautiously, she moved towards the nearby spring, intent on a drink and perhaps a wash before picking the campsite over for anything useful that may have been left behind. She drank her fill, enjoying the simple pleasure of cool, clean water. She unwound the scarf from her neck and was working on the buttons of her tunic when a hand settled on her shoulder. She froze for a moment before glancing back. It was a dwarf, male, wearing the heavier armor of a warrior, no helmet.

She shrugged away from his grip and spun to her feet in one motion, flinging sand from the creek bed into his face as she did so. And she ran. Or she would have, if he hadn’t shifted his grip from her shoulder to wrist, pulling her up short. Panicked, she tugged at his grip, succeeding only in wrenching her shoulder and causing a slightly disappointed expression to cross the dwarf’s craggy face.

“Really?” he inquired jovially. “All we’ve been through together, and you try to run? I’m disappointed.”

“What we’ve? Who _are_ you?” she sputtered, having expected more stabbing and less talking. Not that she was complaining, exactly, but it was always disconcerting when people didn’t act the way one expected.

“Nalco Cadash, at your service, my lady,” he replied with a slightly sardonic bow. “Might I be so bold as to inquire your name?”

“Nelle,” she replied curtly. He looked at her with expectation but she didn’t say anything else. In the long pause that followed, she took the liberty of studying him. He was tall for a dwarf, only a little shorter than she, and what he lacked in height he compensated for with sheer mass. All dwarves were stocky, but he was muscular in a way that communicated that he was both strong and trained in the use of that strength. His dark hair was cropped close to his head, and unlike most dwarves he wore no beard, exposing a rugged but oddly handsome face. She should have been scared out of her mind, but something about the crinkles next to his eyes and the way he still held her wrist, firm but not hurting, kept her calm. Or maybe four days of no food and little sleep were catching up to her.

“Nelle what?” he finally broke the silence, and she realized that he had been examining her with the same scrutiny with which she had been studying him.

“Just Nelle,” she replied wearily. “Are you going to kill me?”

“I never say never, but it’s unlikely, unless you give me a reason to. Are you going to give me a reason?”

“Probably not. What would you consider a killing reason? Just so I know what not to do.” That came out sassier than she intended. Crap. She tensed, waiting for the stabbing to start. Instead he chuckled, and started leading her back to the abandoned campsite.

“Oh, the usual. Tell you what, I won’t kill you if you don’t try to kill me. Deal?” She nodded, wondering where this crazy dwarf had come from. “You look like you’re about to collapse. Sit down,” he said, gesturing to a fallen log near one of the abandoned fire pits. “When was the last time you ate? Never mind, it doesn’t matter,” he said as he dug through the pack he had left next to the log. “Here, eat that,” he ordered, handing her a chunk of cheese and an apple.

“What I know is this: you’ve been following a highly guarded, top secret caravan for the last five days. When I noticed you the first day I figured you for an assassin or a spy. But you’re no spy, and if you know how to fight beyond a few evasive moves I’ll eat nug shit. You followed us into the middle of the wilderness with no supplies, and while you have excellent stealth skills, your wilderness survival knowledge seems to be nonexistent. So, Nelle with no last name, wanna tell me what you’re doing here?”

While he was speaking, she had bolted down the food he offered, and now it sat like lead in her belly. “I needed to get out of Highever. Fast. The caravan was leaving and it’s usually safe to travel in the wake of traders. I thought it was headed for West Hills, or someplace like that. It didn’t really matter. By the time I realized they weren’t simple traders it was too late to go back and I was too lost to do anything but follow. Now what?” she asked warily, wondering when he would stop being nice and turn on her.

“That’s up to you, salroka.” He smiled, making his eyes crinkle even more and revealing a groove in one cheek that could have been called a dimple in a softer face. “You can stay here and make your own way, or you can join us. Like I said before, your fighting and survival skills are nonexistent, but your ability to go unseen is impressive. With a little training, you could have a career. How much do you know about the Carta?”


	2. Chapter 2

“The Carta?” she repeated blankly. “The black market counterpart of the Merchant’s Guild? I know they control most of the surface trade with Orzammar. And I’ve heard a few other things, but nothing I could repeat as fact. Why?”

“Because you just stepped into a giant, messy pile of Carta business, salroka. I haven’t decided yet if it was on purpose or by accident though. Time will tell, I suppose.

“The rest of the group will be waiting for us to catch up; we should get moving,” he said, matching action to his words and gesturing for her to follow as he strode away from the camp.

She followed, but warily, keeping at least two arm’s lengths between them as she walked beside and a little behind him. She was a skittish little thing, although he imagined she had good reason to be. She had the gaunt appearence of someone who had been on short rations for a long time; the bones in her wrists and knuckles stuck out like marbles and her collarbones looked sharp enough to pop through her skin. Her clothes were far from adequate; patched and threadbare, the tunic and breeches she wore wouldn’t provide much warmth when the temperature dropped at night. Her boots looked like they might fall apart at any moment. They walked silently for a time, and while Nalco was perfectly comfortable with the quiet, Nelle was practically buzzing with the tension of unanswered questions. She wouldn’t ask, he understood, because one who asked questions might also be expected to answer them. No matter, he could wait.

He kept an eye on her with his side vision, not wanting to spook her with too much overt examination. She looked young; young enough that he wondered if she had frantic parents looking for her. Her wildly curly hair was a muted pale sandy color, similar to honey, which her skin and eyebrows matched. The monochromatic look made her large, thick lashed, pale green eyes even more arresting. Her unusual coloring, coupled with delicate bone structure and a lushly pink, well shaped mouth added up to trouble, as far as he was concerned. Her ears were hidden by the fluff of her hair, but he’d bet money they were pointed. But her features were more human than elf, except for the eyes. Maybe she was half and half? That would explain a lot. “How old are you?” he asked abruptly.

“Twenty five?” she answered, unable to keep it from sounding like a question.

“Try again, and tell the truth this time,” he admonished.

“Eighteen,” she paused, and he stared until she added, “in two weeks.”

“How long have you been going it alone, kid?”

“A long time. It feels like forever, sometimes,” she sighed.

“Got any family?”

“No.” Her face and voice took on a stony blankness that told him she wouldn’t say more. She didn’t know him, didn’t trust him, and he got the sense that this was a topic she would avoid even if they were close friends.

“We probably have another hour or so until we catch up to the main group. There are some things you need to know before we meet up with them. First, you should know that while I personally know every person in the caravan and can vouch for them in a fight, most of them are rough, surly, and suspicious as hell. Stick close to me and no one will bother you. Just don’t go poking around the wagons, and don’t ask questions.

“Second, you stumbled onto a vital and more importantly, a _secret_ mission. People will respond to you better if you don’t act too interested in what we’re transporting or where we’re headed.

“Third, and most important: if you turn out to be something other than a kid that got lost in the woods, I will kill you.” She flinched and paled at his words, but met his eyes and nodded solemnly.

“If you’re interested, I’d be willing to try you out as an apprentice. I think you have the aptitude for our type of work, and the money’s good once you start earning your cut from the jobs.”

“I-” she coughed before continuing, “I don’t want to kill people. One of the things I heard about the Carta is that they’re assassins. I don’t think I could do that,” She looked at him through her lashes, silently asking him to understand. Shit. If that’s what she looked like when she _wasn’t_ flirting, he was going to have a full time job keeping her safe when they joined the others.

“We’re not murderers, kid,” he chuckled. “Or not all of us, at any rate. Mostly we’re traders, although we’re the kind of traders that occasionally have to cut a throat or two. But that’s not what I had in mind for you. You have an innate ability to make yourself invisible. I’ve seen you do it. What I want to teach you is how to blend in without using stealth. You do that, and learn how to listen and observe, and how to use what you hear, and you’ll be a valuable asset.

“You should learn how to fight, though. At least enough to get out of a tight spot. Throwing sand at my face was smart, but you should have been able to break my hold on your wrist. Flailing around like you did just wears you out and makes things easier for an attacker. Want me to show you?”

She nodded, and the rest of the walk went by quickly as he explained various theories of self-defense. Several times he stopped them to demonstrate and let her practice. He was careful with her though; she needed feeding up before any real sparring. She listened intently, and by the time they were close to the caravan, she had managed to successfully break a wrist hold several times. She had also gradually started walking next to him instead of keeping out of striking distance. He was careful not to startle her or ask any more questions for now. Introducing her to the others was going to be tricky, and he needed her trust if it was going to work.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All characters and dialogue are, of course, property of Bioware.

Consciousness returned abruptly, and with it came pain. Excruciating, relentless pain that wracked her entire body. She tried to scream, to move, to open her eyes, but her body would not obey. All she could do was suffer, trapped inside her traitorous body. Nelle was vaguely aware of voices around her, although she could not understand their words. Someone touched her, patting her down and moving her limbs experimentally and she wanted to shout in protest as the pain intensified at the violation, but no sound came. Time passed, and the pain continued in waves. She gradually became aware that while the pain swept over her entire body, it seemed to emanate from one of her hands. She wished they would cut it off. She wished they would kill her. It might have been minutes, it might have been days, but eventually she became aware that the pain had receded somewhat. It was still terrible, but somehow less than it had been. A persistent keening sound invaded her consciousness and it was with a strange and sickening kind of relief that she perceived that it was coming from her.

The pain continued to subside, leaving numbness in its wake. Her hand still sent jolts of crackling agony up her arm to her spine, but it no longer felt like her body was consumed by fire. Experimentally, she attempted movement, but discovered that her hands were bound. The voices nearby paused, and she realized that she had an audience. Desperate to know what was happening, she struggled to open her eyes and assess the threat. When she was finally able to focus her gaze she found herself distracted by the sight of her left hand. It was _glowing,_ with an eerie and unworldly green light. As she stared into what appeared to be an infinite abyss in the palm of her hand, she felt dizzy, as if she was falling. She wondered what would happen if she poked a finger or a hand inside. Would it go through? She shook her head a few times trying to clear away the strange mesmeric effect of staring into the green light. It flared, making a crackling sound, and another wave of agony shot up her arm, stealing her breath.

The voices were back, in staccato bursts of panic-fueled rage, but she couldn’t focus.  It wasn’t until a hand gripped her shoulder hard enough to bruise and gave a small shake that she was able to focus. “Explain  _this_ ,” the voice demanded roughly, shaking the manacle around Nelle’s left hand. Looking away from her hand for the first time since waking, Nelle sized up the speaker. Female, Nevarran accent,  Seeker armor, fiercely beautiful,  obviously lethal, and completely enraged. 

“I… _can’t_ ,” she responded, having to force the words past frozen vocal cords. 

“What do you mean, you can’t?” Nelle flinched involuntarily at the rage in her voice.

“I don’t know what that is or how it got there,” Nelle pleaded, wishing she had some idea of what the woman wanted to hear, so she could say it.

“You’re lying!” Nelle had been on the receiving end of a blow enough times to see when one was coming. She braced, but a calmer voice interrupted the Seeker.

“We need her, Cassandra,” came a silky reminder from the shadows. Nelle found the woman who stepped forward even more intimidating than the Seeker. Delicate in appearance, she carried an aura that said she would smile sweetly even as she cut your throat, then get a good night’s sleep after.

“I don’t understand,” Nelle ventured, hoping one of them would explain what she was being accused of, and why they needed her, of all people.

“Do you remember what happened? How this began?” The second one persisted. Nelle struggled to remember what she had been doing before. It was all a blur, training with Nalco and the others, arriving at a place called Haven and making camp outside the village while Nalco waited for someone or something. She hadn’t asked. After that, there was nothing, just fear, and a foreboding sense of wrongness where memory should have been. She focused on the fear. What had she been afraid of?

“I remember running. Things were chasing me. And then...a woman?” It could have been a dream. It could have been real. She couldn’t make sense of it.

“A woman?” there was a note of interest in the second one’s voice now.

“She reached out to me, but then...” Nelle trailed off as the memory petered out. She found the gap in her memory more disturbing than the women threatening her, if that was even possible.

“Go to the forward camp, Leliana,” the Seeker commanded. “I will take her to the rift.”

The second one, Leliana, glided away as if her feet never touched the earth, leaving Nelle alone with the very angry Seeker. She stared into the taller woman’s eyes for a moment before venturing to ask, “What did happen?”

She thought that the Seeker really would hit her then, but the woman only grabbed her arm, pulling her to her feet. Nelle swayed for a moment before finding her balance, while the Seeker removed her manacles, only to retie her hands before her with rope. Nelle tried to use one of Nalco’s tricks for getting slack in the rope, but the Seeker wasn’t fooled. She pulled Nelle towards a door, declaring over her shoulder, “It will be easier to show you.”

They passed through the door into open air, and Nelle could immediately sense a terrible wrongness. She glanced up, and saw. A tear in the very sky, glowing green like the mark on her hand. As she stared, dumbstruck, she noticed other things. The air crackled with electricity as if lightning had recently struck, and there was a smell. It was a combination of ozone, blood, death, and a sweet smell that should have been pleasant but was somehow horrifying instead as it overlaid the others.

“We call it the Breach. It’s a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour. It’s not the only such rift, just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the conclave,” Cassandra said grimly. 

“An explosion can do that?” Nelle asked weakly. 

“This one did. Unless we act, the Breach may grow until it swallows the world.” Briefly, Nelle remembered her first dazed thoughts upon waking, wondering if her whole body would be consumed by the mark, should she poke a finger or a hand inside. As if sensing her thoughts, the Breach flashed brighter and grew, causing the mark to flare brighter as well, sending another wave of torment  up Nelle’s arm. She fell to her knees, struggling not to cry or pass out. 

Cassandra knelt beside her, explaining, “Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads...and it is killing you. It may be the key to stopping this but there isn’t much time.” Nelle began to understand. Why she was alive, why they needed her. However she had been there, she should have died in the blast. She  _had_ died in the blast. It was just taking longer.

“I understand,” she said in a low voice. 

“Then?” Cassandra looked at her expectantly.

“I’ll do what I can,” Nelle promised. “Whatever it takes.” It was too late for her, but if she could fix this, it might not be too late for Nalco and the others. It had been so long since she had anyone to care about but herself. It felt good to think that she could do this much for them after all they had done for her. 

Cassandra nodded grimly and helped her to her feet. As she led Nelle through the camp, everyone they passed jeered and taunted her. Some spit, one threw a piece of rotten fruit that didn’t come close to hitting her. “ They have decided your guilt. They need it. The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy, Divine Justinia, head of the Chantry. The Conclave was hers. It was a chance for peace between mages and Templars. She brought their leaders together. Now, they are dead,” she explained.

Nelle didn’t respond to Cassandra or the crowd; she just kept walking. People always needed someone to blame, someone to be angry at. The alternative was that shitty, horrifying things happened for no reason at all, and that reality was paralyzing for most. Cassandra kept talking, but Nelle stopped listening. They were outside the village gates when Cassandra turned and cut Nelle’s bindings, promising that there would at least be a trial if she survived what was to come.

“Where are you taking me?” Nelle ventured to ask.

“Your mark must be tested on something smaller than the Breach,” Cassandra replied.

Nelle didn’t speak as they climbed the path that eventually led to the Temple. The path was littered with corpses and the detritus of battle, and here and there soldiers were stationed at barricades, prepared to meet whatever assault might come. Their numbers seemed pathetically small, but they stood valiantly, beside the bodies of the fallen without faltering. The smell grew stronger, and the sounds of battle, as well as the cries of the dead and dying cut through the air like knives. When the Breach and the mark flared again, she couldn’t help falling to the ground in agony.

“The pulses are coming faster now. The larger the Breach grows, the more rifts appear, the more demons we face,” Cassandra explained as she helped Nelle to her feet. Once Nelle was steady she stepped to the edge of the path and vomited as quietly as she could before wiping her mouth and continuing on. The mark, which had calmed somewhat when she had first awakened, was causing more problems now. The pain was steadier, and she could feel it moving through her bones, like the vibrations of two swords clashing against one another.

“How _did_ I survive the blast?” Nelle asked finally, having a hard time understanding how she could have survived the carnage displayed before her.

“They said you… stepped out of a rift, then fell unconscious,” Cassandra said. “They say a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was. Everything farther in the valley was laid waste, including the Temple of Sacred Ashes. I suppose you’ll see soon enough.”

Nelle didn’t think there was anything to be said after that, and they continued in silence. Focused on staying upright and putting one foot in front of the other, she was taken by surprise when something fell from the sky and collapsed the bridge they were crossing. She landed hard and rolled, narrowly missing being crushed by falling debris. She wanted to lay there and collect herself for a moment, but whatever had fallen from the sky had brought demons with it. There were two of them, misshapen creatures that looked like they were made of shadow and torn flesh. Taller than a human and top-heavy, they moved in an awkward pantomime of a mortal gait. They lashed out with claws that dripped with blood and viscera, and Nelle froze in horror. Cassandra swooped in front of Nelle, skillfully drawing the creatures’ attention.

Nelle crept backward, trying to stay clear of the fight. She looked around frantically, and nearly wept with relief when she saw a broken wagon nearby loaded with weapons. She ran towards it, looking for something she could use to defend herself. A sword would be too heavy, and she was terrible with bows or daggers. She gave a crow of triumph when she found a staff hidden under the other weapons. She was no battle mage, but she could hit things with a stick; and this one had a blade attached to one end. She picked up the staff and turned just in time to see that one of the shades had abandoned Cassandra and was headed her way.

The thing was even more disgusting up close; it smelled of sulphur and rot, and the face it wore was uncannily inhuman. It swiped at her with its claws, and she ducked, going lower than necessary and sweeping the staff towards its knee area. It paused, then kept coming, forcing Nelle to take a few steps back and to the side. The next time it lunged, she used the blade of the staff to puncture its torso, twisting in an attempt to cripple it before pulling the blade back and moving out of range. The shade pursued, and it and Nelle continued their dance; until finally she had stabbed it enough times to send the thing winking out of existence.

Nelle stood there for a moment, breathing heavily trying not to panic when she realized that utter silence had fallen. She glanced around for Cassandra and saw the woman staring at her suspiciously. “Are you an _apostate_?” She spat the word out as if it tasted bad. 

“ No! ”  Nelle assured her quickly, laying down the staff just to be safe. 

Cassandra visibly bristled, “None of our mages or Templars detected any magic in you,” she snapped. “ _Explain_.”

Nelle sighed. If she thought she might live through the day, she would be frantic right now, but she found that certain death had a way of dulling the emotions. “I’m no mage. If you watched me fight you know I didn’t cast. I just picked up the staff because it seemed like the most useful weapon at the time.” She pleaded with her eyes, and finally Cassandra sighed.

“I cannot protect you, and I cannot expect you to be defenseless,” she decided. “I should remember that you agreed to come willingly.” She handed over a few healing potions, which Nelle pocketed silently but didn’t think she would live long enough to need. They continued on, fighting a few more demons along the way. Nelle found it increasingly difficult to continue, but said nothing. The sounds of battle increased as they got closer to wherever they were going, and soon enough they were in the middle of a pitched battle between Chantry soldiers and demons that were spewing from a smaller version of the Breach. This was what Cassandra had called a rift, Nelle thought dully, trying to muster enough energy to join the fight.

She dove into the fray, although she didn’t feel like she was helping much. Eventually the demons were gone, but the rift remained, causing her hand to buzz and sting like a hornets’ nest. As she stood there trying to catch her breath a tall elf stepped to her side and shouted, “Quickly! Before more come through!”

He grabbed her hand, holding it up to the rift. Nelle was astonished when a line of green light (magic?) sprung from her hand and connected to the rift. It hurt the way her body had hurt as she regained consciousness, like fire moving through her veins, her bones, burning everything that was Nelle away and leaving only misery behind. All was suspended for several heartbeats and then suddenly the rift was closed, the pain had again subsided to numbness, and everyone was staring at her.

“What did you do?” She asked the elf.

“ _I_ did nothing. The credit is yours,” he replied, sounding far too sanguine for the scene before them, in Nelle’s opinion.

“ I closed that thing? How?” Nelle asked in bewilderment. 

“Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand,” he replied. “I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake – and it seems I was correct.” Again Nelle found herself annoyed at his demeanor. The sky was literally falling, people lay dead and dying all around them, the mark on her hand was killing her slowly, and he was smug because he guessed something right. She narrowed her eyes, searching for a comeback to put him in his place, but Cassandra interrupted. 

“ Meaning it could also close the Breach itself,” Cassandra said. 

“Possibly,” was his inscrutable answer. “It seems you hold the key to our salvation,” he pronounced. Nelle opened her mouth to tell him where he could stick his ego when she was interrupted again. 

“Good to know! Here I thought we’d be ass deep in demons forever!” Nelle turned to the newcomer approaching. The dwarf didn’t look like Nalco at all; his hair was lighter and redder, his face less handsome, and his armor and crossbow suggested that he was a rogue rather than a warrior, but Nelle’s heart still twisted at his approach. His casual attitude and calculated good humor reminded her strongly of her friend, and she wished that he was here, if only so that she could say goodbye. “Varric Tethras: rogue, storyteller, and occasional unwelcome tag-along,” he announced with a wink in the Seeker’s direction. Nelle realized that she had been gaping at him a little too long and hurried to cover her awkwardness.

“That’s...a nice crossbow you have there,” she stammered.

“Ah, isn’t she? Bianca and I have been through a lot together,” he said, stroking the thing like a cat.

“You named your crossbow Bianca?” She couldn’t help asking.

“Of course. She’ll be great company in the valley,” he assured her. 

Nelle tuned out a bit as Varric and the Seeker bickered amongst themselves over something or other. She was fading fast, and the pain from the mark was back with a vengeance. If they wanted her to close the Breach, it needed to be sooner rather than later. Absently, she wondered if they could use her dead arm to do it if she didn't make it.

“My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions,” the elf intruded on her admittedly morbid thoughts. “I’m pleased to see you still live.” 

“He means, ‘I kept that mark from killing you while you slept,’” Varric clarified.

“You seem to know a great deal about it all,” Nelle said noncommittally, and was unsurprised to see him preen at the notion of knowing more about it than others.

“Solas is an apostate,  well-versed in such matters, ” Cassandra said flatly. Nelle almost laughed, but schooled her expression.

“Technically, all mages are now apostates, Cassandra. My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade, far beyond the experience of any Circle mage,”  he explained.  “I came to offer whatever help I can give with the Breach. If it is not closed, we are all doomed regardless of origin.” 

“ And what will you do when this is all over?” Nelle couldn’t help asking, fully expecting him to say something insufferable.

“One hopes that those in power will remember who helped, and who did not,” he said. Yep, insufferable, Nelle confirmed to herself. Still, if he could keep her alive to close the Breach, she would be thankful. They said more, but Nelle tuned them out again as she wondered if she could ask one of them to deliver a message to Nalco after she was dead. They were on the move again, and she followed blindly, considering what message to send, and who would be most likely to deliver it properly. Approaching a member of the Carta could be tricky. Cassandra would definitely spook them, and Solas was far too stuffy. Varric would do nicely, if he would consent to help. One way to find out, she told herself as she moved to walk beside him. 

“ I, um, I was wondering,” she started awkwardly, “if I could ask a favor.”

“What do you need, Dandy?” He projected affability, but she saw his shoulders tense slightly. He was suspicious. 

“My name is Nelle,” she said, having just remembered that no one had asked her for her name this whole time. Not that she blamed them. The world was ending and she was just a dead body that hadn’t stopped breathing yet. “I wondered, if when this is over, you could get word to a friend for me, so that he knows what happened to me.”

He studied her face, considering her request. “Why do you need me? I know the Seeker said there will be a trial, but they’ll let you send a letter.”

“We both know I’m not surviving this,” she said quietly. “This,” she gestured with the mark, “can only be a death sentence.” She dropped her guard, letting him see her pain and fear, and his eyes widened slightly. He muttered a curse that she didn’t quite catch. 

“Okay, Dandy,” he said. “Who is your friend and what do you want me to tell him?”

“His name is Nalco Cadash. He can be difficult to find,” she said, and Varric’s face hardened at the name. They had crossed paths. 

“I can find him,” was all he said. 

“Just...tell him what happened to me. Tell him I said, ‘I’m sorry it ended this way, but I’ll never be sorry for knowing you, Salroka.” 

“Anything else?” 

“No.”


	4. Chapter 4

                “Well, shit,” Varric muttered to himself as he watched the prisoner move ahead of him, catching up with Solas and Cassandra. Not the prisoner, he reminded himself. Nelle. Poor kid. He had been on the receiving end of more than a few last testaments over the years, but something about hers tugged at his heartstrings. Even so, he couldn’t help wondering just how she was connected to Nalco Cadash, of all people. The message she’d asked him to deliver could be interpreted as lover-like, but he had never known the man to be a cradle robber. There was a first time for everything, he supposed, but it seemed too far-fetched. Cadash was a ruthless bastard when it came to business, but he had a soft spot for kids that was an open secret in certain circles. Varric couldn’t see him taking advantage of a kid like Dandy. On the off chance he did, she’d be less gaunt and better dressed. Cadash was generous with his women. Maybe she was one of his projects. Or one of his spies. The urge to ask was an almost tangible itch between his shoulder blades, but he couldn’t bring himself to bother her when it was obvious that she was barely hanging on. Every rift they closed drained energy reserves that were rapidly dwindling. As much as he worried about her physical strength, he was even more concerned about what was going on in her head.

                Varric was from Kirkwall. He knew what trauma looked like. He had felt it himself on a few notable occasions. He also knew what it looked and sounded like when someone had completely given up. Things got too hard, problems too big, pain too encompassing, and they just…went away. It wasn’t any one thing or bad experience that did it. It was getting slapped down and kicked in the head by life so much that it hurt too much to get back up and try again. That’s what Dandy was doing now, and it scared him. He was pretty sure that if the Breach hadn’t demanded her presence, she would have laid down in the snow and let the cold take her. Cassandra trudged on in the lead of their group, oblivious to anything but the mission at hand. Solas was more aware of Nelle’s state, but it was clear that he saw her as a curiosity to be studied rather than a person to be cared for. Maker only knew what kind of craziness she was in for if they managed to seal the Breach. Someone needed to look out for her, until she was strong enough to look out for herself. He would, he promised himself.

                Because he was watching her, he was the first to notice when she flinched and clutched the hand with the mark to her stomach. He trotted forward, sliding a shoulder under her good arm and a hand to her hip for support when she nearly fell. “You all right there, Dandy?” She nodded, but let him take her weight for a moment. She was…alarmingly light.

                “Does the mark pain you?” Solas asked, sounding more curious than concerned.

                “No more than I can endure,” she responded flatly, pushing away from Varric’s support to march on, swaying drunkenly up the path.

                “Have I done something to offend?” Solas asked Varric. Rather than answering, Varric moved to catch up with her in case she stumbled again, leaving the mage to follow or not. It was a good thing they were close to the forward camp.

                There was another rift between them and the forward camp, because _of course there was_. Varric hadn’t thought it was possible, but Dandy might have Hawke beaten when it came to sheer bad luck. It was clear from her fighting style that she was untrained, but now she was clumsy with fatigue. He kept Bianca firing at whatever seemed to be the greatest threat to her, and let Solas and the Seeker take care of themselves. He couldn’t help letting out a hoot of amusement though when she nearly took out the Seeker with a wild backswing of her staff. Why an obvious non-mage would choose to wield a staff in battle was a question for another time, but one he was determined to get the answer to.

                Dandy closed the rift a little faster this time, although it still seemed to hurt her. The soldiers at the gate were in awe, and word that the prisoner could close rifts had clearly spread to the rest of the camp when they entered. Silence fell amongst the soldiers, allowing them all to hear the argument happening on the other side of the camp.

                “You have already caused enough trouble without resorting to this exercise in futility,” proclaimed a male voice. Varric searched the crowd and saw the speaker, a Chantry cleric with a supercilious air and a ridiculous hat. Lovely.

“ _I_ have caused trouble?” The Nightingale was angry. If the bureaucrat had any sense, he would fear her right now.

“You, Cassandra, the Most Holy – haven’t you all done enough already?” Clearly he had no sense whatsoever. Maligning the memory of the Divine, to The Nightingale’s face was foolhardy at best, suicidal at worst.

“You’re not in command here!” They drifted closer as Leliana put the cleric in his place.

“Enough! I will not have it!” the cleric barked, reminding Varric of the overfed and distempered lapdogs that so many of the noble dowagers in Kirkwall liked to keep as pets. As they approached the tent and the argument, he couldn’t help wondering if the cleric, too, had had his teeth removed to protect his owners from his foul temper. “Ah, here they come,” he pronounced, as if no one could see them if he didn’t point it out.

“You made it. Chancellor Roderick, this is–” Interesting. Leliana was trying to maintain civility. Why she didn’t simply put the dog in his place Varric couldn’t guess.

“I know who she is. As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution.” Varric bristled, and was relieved to notice Cassandra do the same at his order.

“'Order me’? You are a glorified clerk. A bureaucrat!” She spat, not bothering with any pretense of nicety.

“And you are a thug, but a thug who supposedly serves the Chantry!”

 “We serve the Most Holy, Chancellor, as you well know,” Leliana reminded.

“Justinia is dead! We must elect her replacement, and obey _her_ orders on the matter,” he crowed, clearly more concerned with his own importance than actually solving any of the giant fucking problems at hand.

“Isn’t closing the Breach the more pressing issue?” Nelle asked quietly. Her soft tone forced the others to shut up and strain to hear her. Varric wondered if she did it on purpose.

“ _You_ brought this on us in the first place!” Roderick declared pompously. “Call a retreat, Seeker. Our position here is hopeless.” Varric realized that this man, and probably most of the remaining Chantry officials would bicker and posture over who was in charge of what until there was nothing left to be in charge of. Then they would lie down and die and proclaim it the Maker’s will.

“We can stop this before it’s too late,” Cassandra insisted.

 “How? You won’t survive long enough to reach the temple, even with all your soldiers,” Roderick argued.

“We must get to the temple,” Cassandra said. “It’s the quickest route.”

“But not the safest,” Leliana countered. “Our forces can charge as a distraction while we go through the mountains.”

“We lost contact with an entire squad on that path. It’s too risky,” Cassandra protested.

“Listen to me. Abandon this now, before more lives are lost,” Roderick pleaded. Varric snorted, but didn’t say anything. Lost now or later, lives would be lost if the Breach remained. He’d rather go out trying to stop it than hiding and waiting. As if on cue, the Breach chose that moment to pulse and expand, causing the mark to flare and crackle in Nelle’s palm. She tensed and clenched her jaw, but didn’t cry out. Only Varric was watching closely enough to see how much it cost her to be silent.

“How do _you_ think we should proceed?” Cassandra asked Nelle.

“I say we charge. I won’t survive long enough for your trial. Whatever happens, happens now,” Nelle said after a moments’ consideration. The hopeless, empty look was back on her face, and Varric was relieved to see that the Seeker had finally noticed her prisoner’s condition. She looked concerned, but said nothing. Varric was pretty sure that she would start doing a better job of looking out for her prisoner though.

“Leliana. Bring everyone left in the valley. Everyone,” Cassandra ordered.

“On your head be the consequences, Seeker.” Roderick seemed to be trying to threaten the Seeker, but Varric was fairly certain that she had a better idea of what the consequences of this day might be than the cleric ever could. With a look that conveyed her disgust but no further conversation, Cassandra led them out of the camp, towards the ruin that had been the Temple of Sacred ashes.


	5. Chapter 5

                Nelle felt nothing but vague relief as she followed the Seeker away from the forward camp and the Chantry cleric who demanded her own death so vociferously. She suspected he would get his wish sooner rather than later. As long as she could close the Breach first, she was content, she told herself. Her life meant little in the grand scheme of things. There had been many times over the years that she had felt the specter of death hovering close by. Before, she had clung to life tenaciously, with the feeling that she was meant for something greater, some purpose that she had yet to find. Now she knew. The purpose she had sought was this. Closing the Breach would give her miserable life meaning, and allow her to rest in peace. The tricky bit was getting to the thing.

                Cassandra led them past bodies of the fallen, and it occurred to Nelle that she couldn’t be sure that Nalco wasn’t among them. Her last memory was of sitting next to him by the campfire, listening to one of his stories from his early days in the Carta. That had to have been days ago. Why had she assumed that they had separated? What if he was with her when the explosion happened? Maker _, what if he was dead_? She pictured his face, empty-eyed and mangled, and a tear slipped past her control.

                “Can I be of assistance, Da’len?” Solas asked quietly, slipping up to her on her left side.

                “Don’t _ever_ call me that,” Nelle croaked past the lump in her throat.

                “I apologize,” he responded smoothly, unperturbed by her animosity. “I didn’t mean to offend. I only wondered if you would accept some healing. Closing the Breach will not be easy, and it may help.”

                She nodded her acceptance, not exactly willing, but recognizing that if she wanted to live to close the Breach, she shouldn’t reject any help being offered. She felt his aura touch her, and a rush of warmth as healing magic coursed through her, soothing sore muscles and healing strains and bruises. As his aura gradually withdrew, she took a deep breath without pain for the first time since waking. “Thank you,” she said with sincere gratitude. He nodded solemnly before continuing ahead up the stairs that led to the Temple. She followed, wondering if she had misjudged the apostate. No, she decided after examining his retreating form. He was motivated by self-interest more than altruism. Still, help was help, no matter what the reason.

                “Doing all right there, Dandy?” Varric popped up at her side again. He seemed to have appointed himself her keeper. He watched her the way the others did, but with different intent. They looked at her as if she were a thing, and a dangerous one at that, and seemed to be waiting for some outburst or violence from her. Varric kept an eye on her, but she got the sense that he sought to guard her, rather than guard against her. Nelle didn’t know if it was their conversation about Nalco, or if he was just a particularly compassionate person, but she appreciated being seen as a person by at least one of their party.

                “For now,” she said ruefully, with a half-smile. “Solas gave me a burst of healing, so I should be able to make it to the Breach.”

                He looked dissatisfied with that response, brows furrowing as he took in her meaning, but he was wise enough not to say so. “Why Dandy?” She asked after an awkward few moments’ silence.

                “Your hair,” he explained, looking a little chagrined. “It’s so pale and…fluffy. It reminds me of the filaments of a dandelion.” His explanation startled a laugh out of her; she was oblivious to the effect the sound had on those who heard it.

                “A weed? Really?” she asked in a teasing tone. “Although, in some ways the description is rather apt. Do you give everyone a nickname?” He shrugged and grinned in response, which she took for an affirmative response. “Do you-” The mark interrupted her train of thought with a crackling flare, just as Solas shouted from ahead.

                “Be wary- Another Fade rift!”

                Nelle trotted forward to join the battle around the rift. A group of Chantry soldiers were fighting the shades and wraiths that fell from the rift. She slashed out at one of the shades, feeling a barrier descend over her just in time to block a ranged attack from one of the wraiths. Varric and Bianca took out two wraiths almost immediately, leaving the shades for the rest of them. Nelle ducked and rolled, trying to keep the things distracted long enough for Cassandra or one of the soldiers to land a killing blow. It worked, mostly, and in a few minutes the first wave was gone. After a pause, the rift spawned new demons, unlike those they had fought thus far.

                Preternaturally tall, with elongated, skeletal frames, the demons had a flimsy appearance that wasn't terribly intimidating. Until they opened their mouths and _screamed._ It was the sound of every fear that Nelle had ever known condensed into one miserable, howling note. And then one of them disappeared. They focused their attacks on the one they could see, and had nearly subdued the thing when the other one popped out of the air behind Nelle and slapped her to the ground.

                “Protect the prisoner!” Cassandra cried, slashing at the one standing over Nelle with her sword.

                “On it!” Varric shouted back as he shot an explosive bolt at the thing. His aim was precise, hitting it in its open maw. The explosion took out its whole head, and the body dissipated quickly, going wherever demons go when they’re killed. Cassandra and the soldiers made short work of the second terror, while Solas focused on reviving Nelle. She wasn’t badly hurt, just stunned, and he had her on her feet in short order.

She lifted her hand, bracing for the burning pain that accompanied the sealing of the rift. This one didn’t close as easily as the others had; she had to push all of her energy into forcing it closed as the ribbon of energy connecting the mark to the Fade threatened to consume her. When it finally closed with a snap, she stood in the silence for a moment, watching her panting breaths puff in the cold mountain air.

“Sealed, as before,” satisfaction was evident in Solas’ tone. “You are becoming quite proficient at this.”

“Let’s hope it works on the big one,” Varric reminded.

“Lady Cassandra, you managed to close the rift?” The leader of the soldiers approached, addressing Cassandra with approval and familiarity. “Well done.”

Nelle felt herself pale as she realized who was standing in front of her. Memories assaulted her, threatening to steal her breath as well as her sanity if they managed to overtake her. She forced herself to focus on the Seeker to avoid looking at him or reacting to him in any way.

“Do not congratulate me, Commander,” Cassandra deflected. “This is the prisoner’s doing.”

“Is it?” he asked curtly. “I hope they’re right about you. We’ve lost a lot of people getting you here.” Oh, Maker. He didn’t recognize her. She was so befuddled and broken just from seeing his face, and he didn’t even recognize her. She wasn’t going to remind him. Ever.

“I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try my best,” she responded, relieved that he seemed more focused on the wounded than on looking at her too closely.

“That’s all we can ask,” he said. “The way to the Temple should be clear. Leliana will try to meet you there.”

“Then we’d best move quickly,” Cassandra responded. “Give us time, Commander.” Her words were accompanied by a meaningful look that told Nelle that more people would die today than already had, to buy her time to seal the Breach. She hadn’t made the thing, but she felt responsible for the bodies she had seen stacked like kindling outside the forward camp, and for the men and women who would be literally fighting demons to guard her back. She would not fail them. She _would_ seal the Breach.

“Maker watch over you – for all our sakes,” the Commander called after them as they continued towards the remains of the Temple.

Nelle had believed herself prepared for the Temple, but as they approached she realized that she was not prepared for this. The unique smell that she had noticed earlier was still present, with an additional overlay of roasting meat that she recognized as the smell of burning corpses. Cassandra and Solas spoke as they entered the Temple courtyard, but she didn’t hear their words, consumed as she was by the horror before her. Twisted human figures remained as pillars of ash, releasing flakes into the air with every gust of wind. The ground was littered with stone from the blast, as well as bones that hadn’t burned completely. How powerful had the explosion been, to destroy such a large structure, and reduce so much life to nothing but bone and rubble in just a few seconds? She hoped that death had been instantaneous, but the positions of some of the bodies suggested that they had tried to flee. How had she survived this? She shuddered.

“That is where you walked out of the Fade and our soldiers found you,” Cassandra said in the softest tone Nelle had heard her use. “They said a woman was behind you in the rift. No one knows who she was.”

They passed through a melted tunnel that might have once been a hallway, and Nelle got a good look at the Breach close up. It was huge. Every hair on her body was suddenly standing on end, and gooseflesh broke out on her skin as the rift crackled and popped with discontent.

“The Breach is a long way up,” Varric commented, somewhat inanely in her opinion.

“You’re here!” Leliana called as she approached them with a unit of soldiers at her back. “Thank the Maker!”

“Leliana, have your men take up positions around the Temple,” Cassandra commanded before turning her attention to Nelle. “This is your chance to end this. Are you ready?”

“I’ll try, but I don’t know if I can reach that, much less close it,” Nelle said, considering her options. The rifts she had closed so far had been relatively close to the ground. This one was three times that height, if not more. She didn’t know if the mark needed a certain proximity to work.

“No.” Apparently Solas had interpreted her uncertainty as unwillingness. “This rift was the first and is the key. Seal it, and perhaps we seal the Breach.” Nelle struggled not to make a rude face at him as Cassandra gave further orders and they continued, searching for a safe path that would get them close enough to the rift. As they walked an eerie voice echoed over the remains of the Temple, which Solas hypothesized was an imprint of the person who had created the Breach. Nelle was distracted by an odd sound ahead of them. It was like music, but…not. She could feel an almost tangible pull from the mark towards the red stone crystals that emanated the sounds. She drifted closer to it, curious what would happen if she touched. The song was impossible to ignore, but it was far from pleasant. It grated on her ears in a way that made her skin crawl and her bones shiver. Maybe if she touched the crystal the mark would stop the music. She was reaching for it when Varric grabbed her wrist and pulled her back.

“That’s red lyrium, Dandy,” he cautioned. “Don’t touch it.” She nodded her understanding and he released her wrist, still watching her in case she tried to reach for it again. “But what’s it _doing_ here?” He muttered to himself, clearly disturbed.

“Magic could have drawn on lyrium beneath the temple, corrupted it,” Solas postulated.

“It’s evil.” Varric cut off his musings bluntly. “Whatever you do, don’t touch it.”

They made their way farther down, hearing more of the echoing, hollow voices that spoke of unwilling sacrifice. When they finally reached a dead end with a six foot drop down to the temple floor where they could presumably reach the Breach, Cassandra and Solas stopped to strategize. Nelle could only gaze into the Breach, captivated by its terrible beauty. As she stared into it, she imagined that she could see glimpses of movement inside. Nothing tangible, just the suggestion of dark figures flashing by, and for a chilling moment a huge yellow eye that seemed to gaze into her very soul. But it was like seeing a shadow from the corner of her eye; when she tried to focus on a single figure, whatever it was disappeared. Abruptly, she shook her head, trying to clear the daze that the Breach and the red lyrium seemed to cause. No time like the present, she thought, jumping down to the Temple floor.

Cassandra, Solas, and Leliana shouted behind her, but her sole focus was on the Breach now. Moving forward steadily, she was peripherally conscious that the others had moved to guard her flanks. They were all distracted when ghostly images appeared, seeming to show the last few minutes before the explosion. A monster imprisoned the Divine, and Nelle had stumbled into the room by mistake. The interruption proved timely, as she seemed to have disrupted the creature’s plan.

“You _were_ there! Who attacked?” Cassandra demanded. “And the Divine, is she…? Was this vision true? What are we seeing?” The images flickered out of existence, leaving absolute silence in their wake. Everyone stared at Nelle, expecting her to say something or explain what had happened next, but she had no insight. Even seeing the same vision as everyone else, she didn’t truly remember. She recognized herself, but it seemed like something that had happened to someone else. She glanced at Cassandra, wishing she had something to offer the Seeker other than a confused shrug.

 Somehow, the mark knew when it was close enough to the Breach. It flickered and flared, and Nelle brought her hand up, resolved to finish things once and for all. The ribbon of light appeared as usual (how had any of this become _usual_ , she wondered) and familiar pain blossomed in every nerve. Instead of closing, the rift spawned a demon. A giant, fucking pride demon. Massive in height and covered with a scaly hide that deflected arrows as if they were paper, the horned creature snapped a whip made of lightning at the archers who first attacked it, disabling a line of soldiers in a single blow.

“We must strip its defenses! Wear it down!” Cassandra shouted over the din of battle. “Quickly! Disrupt the rift!” Nelle raised her hand again, and discovered that the demon’s connection to the Fade kept her from closing the rift, but it also allowed her to pull some of its energy through the mark. The rift flared wildly, and the demon staggered to a knee. The warriors swooped in, taking advantage of its weakness to land blows that would hopefully cripple the thing. Nelle stayed back, knowing that in a melee with so many she would be more of a hindrance than help. After a minute or two the demon rose again, shouting its anger and casting about with its lightning whip with renewed vigor. The rift snapped and popped back to normal, spewing several smaller demons practically into Nelle’s lap. The shades moved to surround her, and she used her staff to block their blows as well as she could while trying to keep the central pillar of the Temple at her back. She felt a barrier fall over her and shot Solas a grateful look across the battlefield.

She managed to dispatch all three of them without significant injury, but it took a fair few minutes. When she looked around for the pride demon, she saw immediately that the soldiers were in trouble. She raised the mark again, pulling energy away from Pride with every ounce of will she possessed. She could actually _feel_ the demon’s energy as it passed through the mark. For an instant she was overwhelmed by the sensation of its thoughts and feelings coursing through her, but then the rift snapped and the demon fell once more. She lost track of how many times they repeated their dance, but each time the demon weakened, so did she. It got harder to evade the smaller demons that fell from the rift, harder to lift the mark and feel the greasy satisfaction that flooded her when she connected to Pride.

When the soldiers finally felled Pride, she was almost dead on her feet. Cassandra shouted, “Now! Close the rift!” and Nelle wearily lifted her hand a final time. The rift didn’t want to close, and now with experience she could feel the spirits and demons on the other side. Some were pushing to come through, others were attempting to get away as the rift sucked them forward with the merciless tenacity of an avalanche. The noise in her head was too much to sort out or make sense of, so Nelle resolutely ignored it, pulling from reserves she didn’t know she had and throwing every ounce of will she possessed into closing the Breach. She fought it silently for one breath, then two, sweat beading on her forehead and a grimace of pain overtaking her features. She felt a pop through the mark and saw a flash of light, and fell into darkness.


	6. Chapter 6

                _Nelle fidgeted behind the curtain. When she found her hiding place, she had been proud of herself; none of the others would dare to hide in the Grand Enchanter’s office. His window had a deep sill, and it was easy to curl up in the corner and arrange the curtain so that she couldn’t be seen. She would win the game, and the others would be sorry that they were mean to her. Especially Yevin. Just this morning he given her ear a vicious twist and called her a stupid knife-ear. Her determination to best them had waned when Irving returned to his office. She was forced to hide, quiet as a mouse, for what felt like hours. Her legs hurt, she was cold, and hungry, and needed the privy._

_She seriously considered revealing herself to the Grand Enchanter. It was getting dark; her mother would be looking for her soon, and even if she got in trouble, Irving never ordered the children whipped. But if she got in trouble, Mamae would be disappointed, and that would make Nelle very sad. So she waited, shivering as the glass cooled in the night air, for Irving to leave. When he finally did it was late; she had surely missed dinner. She crept out of her hidey-hole and tiptoed towards the door. It wouldn’t do to get caught in the office or anywhere on this floor; only senior enchanters were allowed in this part of the tower._

_She had nearly made it to the stairs when a hand grasped the back of her tunic and lifted her clear off the ground, shaking her all the while. She let out a startled yelp, and the hand shook harder. He lifted her higher and turned her so they were eye to eye. It was one of the Templars. She thought his name was Rowan, but wasn’t sure. He was tall and brawny, and she had heard the enchanters whispering that he was a mean one. “What are you doing up here, whelp?” he demanded harshly, letting her hang in front of him like a gutted deer._

_“I’m sorry, Ser!” she pleaded. “I didn’t mean any harm! We were just playing hide and seek.” A few tears escaped unbidden, and she desperately prayed that she wouldn’t lose control of her very full bladder._

_“Hide and seek?” he scoffed. “At this hour? With whom?”_

_“Just the other children, Ser.” She explained. “We started playing a long time ago. I think I hid too good, no one ever found me.” He stared at her for a long time, his eyes boring into hers as if daring her to say something more. Without another word he set her on her feet but kept his hold on her tunic. He dragged her down the stairs, and she struggled mightily to keep her feet under her at the pace he set. It didn’t take long to reach the floor that housed the children’s dormitories. He pulled her into the boys’ dorm, and addressed one of them at random._

_“You there!” he pointed at Yevin. “Were you playing hide and seek on the senior enchanters’ floor today?”_

_“No Ser,” the human boy answered immediately. The Templar glared down at Nelle. “We don’t play with her, Ser,” the boy continued. “She’s sneaky and nasty, always trying to lead us into trouble.”_

_“Good boy,” the Templar praised. He marched her back out into the hall and pulled her towards one of the empty storage rooms at the end of the corridor. When they were inside, he leaned against the door and eyed her speculatively._

_“If you tell me what you were really doing on the senior enchanters’ floor your punishment will be less,” he offered. “You only have one chance to tell the truth.”_

_“I-I did tell the truth, Ser,” she protested desperately. “We were only playing hide and seek!”_

_He sighed in a mockery of regret. “You have done wrong, and must be punished so that your sins may be forgiven.” He pulled a willow cane from a rack on the wall. Towering over Nelle, he ripped the back of her tunic open and delivered one heavy blow across her back. The pain was excruciating, and she began to cry in earnest. “Confess!” he ordered, placing another blow over the top of the first. Nelle felt her skin break, and blood trickled down her back. He continued, pausing every three or four strokes to command her to confess. At first she protested her innocence, but soon couldn’t speak at all through the choking sobs that wracked her body. At some point after she lost count of the blows, and to her great shame, she lost control of her bladder. The Templar laughed and rubbed her face in the puddle before continuing to beat her. She was close to unconsciousness when a change in the air indicated that the door had opened._

_“What is the meaning of this?” a male voice asked._

_“Da’len!” her Mamae cried. Nelle tried to get up, but found that she couldn’t move. As consciousness drifted away from her, she was aware of flashes of light, the smell of smoke, and agonized screaming._

Nelle snapped into wakefulness, with tears on her face and a scream trapped in her throat. She sat in the bed for a moment, breathing through the aftermath of the nightmare. She placed a hand over her heart, feeling its galloping pace ease as she forced herself to keep her breaths slow and even. So many terrible memories to choose from, but that was the one that always seemed to find her in sleep, she thought ruefully. Looking around, she realized that she had no idea where she was. With the life she led, waking up in strange places was nothing new, but she usually remembered falling asleep in them. This cabin was nice, with a comfortable bed and soft blankets. The walls were a warm-toned wood, and a desk sat near a good sized window that let in enough light to tell her that it was probably early afternoon. The last thing she remembered was…the Breach! She had tried to seal the Breach, and she was still alive. Unexpected, but welcome news.

She swung her feet to the floor and noticed that she was dressed in a much nicer (and warmer) tunic and breeches than she had been wearing before. A pair of new looking boots sat on the floor near the bed, and she donned them quickly, appreciating the warmth and fit. But who had changed her clothes? She queried her body, but nothing hurt or felt off; in fact, she felt _good._ New clothes, new boots, healing magic; if they went to all that trouble they probably didn’t mean to execute her this afternoon. Unexpected, but welcome. She opened her left hand and examined it cautiously. The mark was still there, but it didn’t hurt. Amazing. As she looked at it, she realized that it also seemed more…opaque than it had been before. She could still feel the Fade through the mark, but it didn’t feel like all of reality could be sucked into the Fade through her hand now. Another positive.

Rustling from the outer room grabbed her attention. “Who’s there?” She called, standing and moving to the doorway. She was shocked to see an elf girl kneeling on the floor.

“Oh! I didn’t know you were awake, I swear!” the girl said with the air of one who expected chastisement.

“Don’t worry about it. I only…” Nelle began, but the girl interrupted.

“I beg your forgiveness and your blessing. I am but a humble servant,” she explained, bowing in deep obeisance. “You’re back in Haven, my lady. They say you saved us. The breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand. It’s all anyone has talked about for the last three days!” Nelle blinked. This was unexpected.

“So you’re saying…they’re happy with me?” Nelle confirmed.

“I’m only saying what I heard. I don’t mean anything by it,” the elf responded, clearly worried about getting in trouble. “I’m sure Lady Cassandra will want to know you’ve wakened. She said ‘at once!’” the girl continued.

“And where is she,” Nelle asked, beginning to run short on patience.

“In the Chantry with the Lord Chancellor. ‘At once,’ she said!” And with those parting words the girl scampered off, leaving Nelle to speculate as to what might be waiting in the Chantry. A trial? An execution? Exoneration? Unlikely. In Nelle’s experience, people were more likely to blame her first and ask questions later. She seriously considered detouring away from the Chantry and slipping away into the forest. Better to check the lay of the land first, she decided. She poked her head out the door of the cabin and nearly jumped back inside at the sight that greeted her. Soldiers. Dozens of soldiers, waiting outside the cabin, staring, not with the suspicion she had come to expect, but with awe. Several bowed their heads and saluted, and she heard murmurs of, “That is she,” and, “The Herald of Andraste,” voiced with the reverence of the faithful. Truthfully, it was less disturbing when they had been spitting and throwing fruit.

She forced herself to step out with as much dignity as she could muster, bowing her head awkwardly to acknowledge the soldiers as she passed. As soon as she was away from the cluster of soldiers she looked around for the Chantry. It was the largest building in the village, placed at the crest of the slope leading up the mountain. As she moved up the steps she felt the stares of many, and continued to hear whispers and mutterings from all sides. What confused her was that they seemed to think she had done something extraordinary, yet when she looked up, the Breach remained in the sky.

The Chantry doors were heavy, but she managed to crack one open far enough to slip through. A few mothers and lay sisters were about, and someone was singing the chant. Nelle crept forward with caution. She had only been inside a Chantry a few times, and had always been chased off in short order. Most of the people milling about were trying to look busy, but all eyes and ears were trained on a door at the far side of the building. Shouting could be heard clearly, and it was obvious that eavesdropping was the order of the day. Hearing Cassandra’s distinct tones, Nelle strode forward purposefully, knocking twice before opening the door.

She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but it wasn’t this. A bare stone room, windowless and musty smelling, it had probably been used for storage before it had been commandeered as a…meeting room? There was straw on the floor in a futile attempt to mitigate the dampness, and a table that looked like it may have once served as a door was the only piece of furniture. A map of Thedas was spread open upon it, and several people were gathered around, engaged it what might politely be termed spirited debate. They were so engaged with each other that no one seemed to notice Nelle until the Lord Chancellor spoke up.

“Chain her!” he called to the guards, who entered at his words. “I want her prepared to travel to the capital for trial.” One of the guards reached for her, and Nelle shied away as the Seeker countered his demand. She sent the guards away, earning the ire of the Chancellor. When he said as much she reminded him that while the Breach had stabilized, it was still a threat.

“I did what I could,” Nelle said, hoping to diffuse some of the tension. “It almost killed me.”


	7. Chapter 7

                Cullen watched the girl that the people had been calling the Herald of Andraste carefully as Cassandra and Leliana put Chancellor Roderick in his place without any input from the Herald. If he hadn’t heard her speak on the battlefield he might have thought her mute, but that wasn’t the case. The girl seemed intensely uncomfortable, edging away from the confrontation in front of her with minute but purposeful movements. When Cassandra slammed the Divine’s writ on the table the girl actually flinched. Of course, that was when she noticed his scrutiny. When their eyes met she paled and took another step back. It was then that he put it together. She wasn’t uncomfortable with Roderick, or the title. She wasn’t slinking away from the war table. She was afraid of _him_.

Had she been a mage, he might have understood it. Mages were dangerous, yes, but he was fully aware that abuses had happened in the circles. But Cassandra had assured them that the Herald had no magic. If she feared men in general, she would show the same aversion to Roderick as well. She had been comfortable enough with Varric and the apostate. He thought back to their brief meeting on the battlefield. Had he done or said anything to threaten or offend? He didn’t think so, but in hindsight the Herald had avoided his gaze then, too. She had appeared pale and distressed on the battlefield, but it had been a distressing day. Today she looked much the same though. He stared down at the Divine’s writ, keeping an eye on the Herald with his peripheral vision. He doubted it was conscious, but she had moved to put Cassandra between them.

Roderick stormed out, as ineffectual as he was petulant. He continued to covertly study the Herald as Cassandra and Leliana attempted to persuade her to stay on to help seal the Breach. She still didn’t speak, but instead measured the right and left hands of the Divine with solemn eyes. Those eyes…something about her was familiar. It would come to him in time. For now, his head ached, and it was all he could do to focus on the decisions being made in front of him.

“I will do what I can,” the Herald said finally. Her voice was husky and low, much more than he had expected for such a small woman. It seemed that was all she planned to say, as she turned on her heel and left immediately after her pronouncement.

“Is she always so…taciturn?” Cullen wondered aloud in the void left by her absence.

“I do not know her well enough to speculate,” Cassandra said. “In the aftermath of the Conclave she was…not forthcoming. She spoke to Varric more than anyone else, I believe.”

“What do we know of her background?” Josephine, who had thus far been a silent observer, inquired.

“Almost nothing,” Leliana admitted rather bitterly. “No one seems to know who she is. I cannot connect her to any of the official delegations at the Conclave. Or the unofficial ones.” She looked thoughtful. “You say she spoke with Varric?” Cassandra nodded. “I will see what he has learned of our Herald. In the meantime, I have several agents tasked with keeping an eye on her.”

“I would not trust anything the dwarf tells you,” Cassandra warned, earning an eye roll from Leliana.

“I should see to the troops,” Cullen stated vaguely before making his escape. Upon exiting the Chantry, he was surprised to see the Herald lingering just outside the door. She looked small, and lost, he decided, standing alone in the bustle of Haven and staring up at the Breach. He approached her cautiously, not wanting to startle her. “Herald,” he said quietly, “May I help you find anything?” He sounded like an obsequious shopkeeper, he thought disgustedly.

She didn’t startle this time, but she didn’t answer right away either. “Is there a place where I could get something to eat?” To his chagrin it occurred to him that it could have been days since she had been offered a meal. Perhaps her pallor was due to hunger rather than aversion to him after all.

“The tavern is close by, if you’ll join me,” he said, offering his arm. She looked at it like it was a particularly venomous snake and he withdrew the gesture, instead motioning towards the correct path. She walked beside and slightly behind him in silence, and just out of arm’s reach, he noticed with concern. When they reached the tavern he held the door open for her, and she skittered past him with more haste than grace. Flissa glanced up from her place behind the bar. “The Herald is hungry, Flissa. Do you think you could find us an early lunch?” She nodded, cheeks red and eyes sparkling at the idea of serving the Herald.

“There’s a mess tent for the soldiers and workers down by the training fields,” he explained to the Herald, feeling the need to fill the silence. “But they eat at scheduled times in shifts, and we’re too late for breakfast, too early for lunch. Flissa always has something available if you find yourself in need at odd hours. Although I’m sure the cooks would never turn away the Herald of Andraste.” Her lips flattened to her teeth at his use of the title. “I’m sorry, my Lady, but in all of the chaos, I don’t think I ever learned your name.”

“It’s Nelle,” she said quietly. “You’re the second person to bother asking.” Flissa brought them each a portion of venison stew in bowls made from yesterday’s bread. The smell had his mouth watering and he realized that like the Herald, he too was famished. The Herald thanked Flissa as she set down tankards of ale for each of them before moving away. She dug into her stew right away, eating so fast that she must have burned her mouth. Observing her, it occurred to him that her willowy figure might have more to do with privation than nature. When she paused her eating to take a sip of ale, making an adorable moue at the bitter taste, he judged it safe to resume conversation.

“Where are you from, Nelle?” It seemed a harmless enough question to him, but she went completely still for a second before responding with practiced off-handedness.

“Oh, all over. You know how it is; you go where the work is. I’m sure you’ve experienced much the same.” Clever. In a casual conversation most people would then begin talking about their own experiences with travel and living in different places.

“Indeed,” he agreed noncommittally. “What kind of work did you do? Before all of this, of course.” He smiled, hoping to put her at ease.

“All kinds of things,” she smiled back, though it didn’t come close to reaching her eyes. “The Inquisition is new; what did you do before?”

“I was a Templar. I have left the order, however.” He watched her carefully. In such turbulent times nearly everyone had a significant reaction to Templars. She simply nodded, as if she already knew. Did she? He still hadn’t placed where they had met before. “Forgive me, Herald, but you never mentioned your surname. What is it?”

“I don’t have one,” she said steadily. She took another sip of ale, and he noticed a slight tremor in her hands. She was better at hiding her reactions than he would expect. He suspected that if she was less stressed in general he would never have noticed her discomfort.

“You don’t have one,” he repeated, holding her gaze. Everyone had a surname. Even orphans and children given to the Chantry were given surnames if their own names weren’t known.

“Not one I use, at any rate.” Her face had turned stony. He wouldn’t get anything else from her today, he was certain.

“I see.” He paused before continuing. “Herald…Nelle, I can’t help thinking that we have met before. You seem very familiar to me. Have we? Met, I mean.” What he had been expecting, he wasn’t sure, but it certainly wasn’t for her to literally bolt. She was out the door and gone in seconds, leaving a third of her meal and most of her ale behind. His first instinct was to pursue, but he knew that Leliana’s people had eyes on her at all times. He suspected that if pressed too much, she would simply disappear, and they needed her to close the Breach.

He finished his lunch, and hers before offering Flissa a word of thanks for the meal and a few coins. He had planned to meet with his lieutenants and Threnn about weapons requisitions and siege equipment, but that would have to wait. Finding Leliana was now his first priority. Exiting the tavern, he wandered casually over to the area Varric had claimed as his own. Josephine had offered to find the dwarf a bed in one of the cottages, but he declined, claiming that he preferred the privacy and space of his tent. Cullen assumed it was more a matter of wanting to be in position to see the comings and goings of all the scouts, soldiers, clerics, and other personnel that moved through Haven each day. Varric’s camp was in the perfect location to see and hear all the goings on.

As Cullen approached, the dwarf rose from his chair. “Curly,” he said, “You just missed Nightingale. What brings you to my humble abode?”

“I was looking for Leliana actually,” Cullen explained. He was intrigued to see Varric visibly deflate. “But if you have time, I do have a question for you.” Varric eyed him for a moment before giving a nod.

“I understand that you have more of a rapport with the Herald than anyone else does at the moment.” Varric nodded, wary. Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the tension headache creeping back with a vengeance. “I had lunch with her today; it didn’t go well. If you see her, will you tell her that I’m sorry I upset her?”

“That’s it?” Varric asked incredulously. “You don’t want to know what I know about her past, or who her people are, or why she was at the Conclave?”

“Of course I do!” Cullen replied. “But she’s barely more than a child. She’s alone, and she’s scared. I want to know why. I want to know why she looks at me like she expects me to pull out a knife and stab her at any moment. But my wants are unimportant. We have a monumental task ahead of us. It will be easier if we can all work together.” Varric was gaping now, obviously surprised at Cullen’s vehemence. “Just, look out for her, will you? Someone needs to, and you appear to be the one she trusts.”

“Shit,” Varric muttered. “She ran past here like wolves were at her heels. Didn’t even stop to say hello. If you can get Leliana off my back, that would be great. She threatened to sic the Seeker on me if I didn’t agree to pump Dandy for information.”

“Done,” Cullen agreed. With a nod to Varric he headed back towards the Chantry, hoping to find Leliana before more damage could be done. He found her in the courtyard in front of the Chantry, alone for once.

“Commander,” she intoned smoothly. “How may I assist you?”

“I want to talk to you about the Herald,” he said bluntly. His head was pounding, and finesse was beyond him. She arched a brow and waited for him to continue. “I know you were planning to look into her past. I think you should back off a little.”

“You do?” she asked with mock innocence. “Pray tell, why?”

“She’s guarded. She looks half starved, and I think if she has even a hint of a reason, she’ll run. If she does, we’ll have to bring her back because we need her to close the Breach. If we make her a prisoner again, she will never trust us, never work with us voluntarily. She will never trust the Inquisition if we don’t prove ourselves worthy of that trust.”

“I agree, Commander,” Leliana smirked. “After speaking with Varric and a few of my scouts, I had reached a similar conclusion. She will be a better asset if she works with us voluntarily. The best way to get what we want, what we _all_ want, is to befriend her.” She giggled, a youthful, carefree sound that was incongruous coming from such a dangerous creature. “But I am intrigued. What did the girl say to make you so enamored, so quickly?” He flushed.

“She’s barely more than a child,” he protested. “I just don’t want to try to close the Breach with a hostile prisoner.”

“Very wise,” Leliana conceded, although he suspected she would be teasing him about this for the foreseeable future. “If there is nothing else?” Accepting the dismissal, he returned to the training fields. His lieutenants were waiting, and the recruits had a long way to go before they were even remotely useful. To work, then.


	8. Chapter 8

When Nelle ran out on the Commander, she didn’t have a particular destination in mind. She just knew if she stayed there any longer she would break, and tell the Commander why she looked ‘familiar’ to him. So instead she ran, past where Varric was sitting next to a fire, past the cabin where she had awakened that morning, and through the open gates of the village. Veering right, she made for the hills, hoping to find some solitude to think things over. Once she was out of sight of the training fields, she slowed to a walk, savoring the burn of the cold air as it hit her lungs. As she crunched her way through the snow that covered the ground, she considered what to do next.

She had agreed to stay, for now. But she wasn’t sure how long she could keep that promise. It was clear that the leaders didn’t think much of her aside from her ability to close Fade rifts, and hopefully the Breach. Which would have been fine. She would have been content to be behind the scenes, but the title that people were using put a different face on things. They were setting her up as a prophet, a savior, and the people were eating it up. Nelle didn’t believe in the Maker, but she knew enough of Chantry history to know what happened to heroes, saviors, and prophets. It was never good. And she strongly suspected that if she didn’t act a certain way or play into the public persona that the Inquisition leaders deemed appropriate, she might fall victim to a tragic ‘accident’.

Still, the Breach remained. Stable for now, but still a threat. If she ran, it would still be there, and unless another marked individual appeared, she didn’t think it would be possible to close it. If she tried to run, they would come after her, and she would be caught. As a prisoner, they could keep her caged until they needed her, and dispose of her when the work was done. No matter how she looked at it, it seemed that she would be a ‘guest’ of the Inquisition for the foreseeable future. Better to play along and make nice until they turned on her. And they would, she knew. Everyone did eventually. She kicked at the snow under her feet, cursing the mark on her hand that made all of this possible.

Nelle walked a little farther, enjoying the sight of a wild druffalo herd gamboling about in a clearing. Druffalo were often looked down upon as being sturdy but dull witted, but Nelle knew better. They were intelligent herd animals, and fierce when provoked. They could also be gentle and friendly when approached properly. There had been a few times during the Blight when sleeping with a herd had saved her from death by hypothermia. For all their good qualities, they did smell terrible, she admitted when the wind changed. She withdrew with regret, aiming her feet back toward Haven reluctantly. She would have to try to make nice with the leaders of the Inquisition, at least for now.

Trudging back towards the village, she noticed that elfroot was growing abundantly under the trees. Nelle assumed that with all the casualties from the Conclave and subsequent battles, the Inquisition was likely running short on healing potions. She began gathering roots as she walked, being careful not to take too much from any particular patch. By the time she was back in sight of the gates, she was dirty, hungry, and chilled through, but she had an armload of the roots ready to be broken down and turned into healing potions.

“Herald, wait!” the Seeker called as Nelle approached the gates of the village. She turned towards the sound and waited as the Seeker strode purposefully towards her. She consciously worked to straighten her spine and appear unperturbed, despite her discomfort with being the focus of so many eyes. Little by little the sounds of soldiers training petered out as each and every recruit stopped what they were doing to gawk. Nelle could hear the whispers sweeping through the group and supposed that she should be grateful that they were naming her Herald of Andraste rather than knife-eared whelp, useless bint, or something even less complimentary. Cassandra took no notice of their audience, simply walking up to Nelle and asking, “Where have you been?” in a tone usually reserved for disobedient canines.

“Gathering elfroot for the wounded,” Nelle replied curtly, gesturing with the armload of plants that was growing heavier by the second. “Is there someone I should be checking in with?” She asked with as much innocence as she could muster.

“I suppose not,” Cassandra conceded. “If you are agreeable, we are needed in the Chantry. A recruit can deliver those to Adan in the meantime.” She looked around for a recruit, and noticed for the first time the ocean of soldiers that had just listened to her scolding the Herald. “You!” She shouted, pointing at the nearest soldier, who looked more boy than man. “Take these plants to the apothecary immediately.” He moved to do as he was bid, blushing as he took the bundle from Nelle. “The rest of you, back to work!” Cassandra bellowed loud enough to be heard across the entire field.

“My apologies, Herald,” Cassandra said, as they began walking towards the Chantry. “I did not realize that the bulk of our forces was listening. They revere you, as they should.” Nelle suppressed a shudder of distaste with effort.

“I am no prophet, Cassandra,” Nelle said gently. “If I could stop this Herald business, I would, but I think it’s too late. I’m just a person with a history of being in the wrong place at the worst possible time.”

“You were exactly what we needed, when we needed it,” Cassandra replied fervently. “I believe that the Maker intended you to help us, whether you do or not.”

“Because of this?” Nelle asked, holding up her left hand. The mark was calm now, and except for a slight hum in the bones of her arm, it no longer pained her.

“Does it bother you?” Cassandra asked, taking Nelle’s hand in her larger one and examining the mark closely. Nelle let a humorless chuckle escape her.

“It doesn’t hurt like it did, if that’s what you mean,” she explained. “But it- and what it means- scare me. So does the fact that the Breach remains and we don’t really know what caused it. So yes, it bothers me.” Cassandra nodded her understanding and the two continued to the Chantry, each lost in her own thoughts.

Nelle revised her initial opinion of Cassandra slightly. She had assumed the woman to be a blunt instrument, aimed and operated by those above her in Chantry hierarchy, but that seemed not to be the case. She was motivated not by obedience, but faith. Faith was all well and good until it gave birth to fanaticism. Nelle had seen what Cassandra could do when her faith was threatened in the aftermath of the Conclave. Had Leliana not intervened, Cassandra might have killed Nelle outright. Today she believed that Nelle was the Herald, but what if that changed? Nelle added Cassandra to her growing list of leaders to be wary of.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in updating; extra hours at work, jury duty and moving house have left me with no time to sleep, let alone write lately.

     Absorbed in writing a letter to one of his many contacts, Varric didn’t notice immediately that he wasn’t alone. It had been a long day in a series of long days, with no end in sight. His bed beckoned from inside his tent, but he had learned long ago that procrastinating on paperwork only made it worse in the long run. So there he sat, bathed in the unsteady light of a single candle, with only the scratch of his quill and the occasional pop of the fire for company. Signing his letter with a flourish, he glanced up from his work and nearly fell from his chair. A figure, shrouded in the darkness and partially shielded by the flames, sat on the other side of his fire. A very small figure. “Dandy?” he ventured hesitantly, “What are you doing over there?” She looked his way; he could tell by the flash of her eyes in the firelight, but her face remained in shadow. She was quiet for so long that he thought she didn’t mean to answer.

     “We’re leaving tomorrow, you know,” she finally said. “For the Hinterlands.”

     “The Seeker told me this afternoon,” he replied. “That’s why I’m trying to tie up these loose ends.” He gestured to the stack of papers on his portable desk. “I don’t imagine we’ll have much time for letter writing on the road.” She made no answer, just kept staring into the flames. It was starting to creep him out just a little.

     “So, now that Cassandra’s out of earshot, are you holding up all right? I mean, you go from being the most wanted criminal in Thedas to joining the armies of the faithful. Most people would have spread that out over more than one day.”

     “I don’t know,” she paused again, seeming to weigh her words carefully. “I ate today. Twice. I’m warm. My clothes fit. People here greet me with respect, call me the Herald of Andraste. I should be happy, right?” She let out a mirthless chuckle. “But I’m not,” she said bitterly. “Because I know it’s all a lie. I’m not what they say.” He felt more than saw her gaze settle on him, gauging his reaction. Years of practice allowed him to keep his face impassive. “What happens when they figure it out, Varric? Does it all go back to the way it was before, or will they punish _me_ for their shattered illusions?”

     “Dandy, I don’t think any of us could go back to what we were before, no matter what happens,” Varric said finally, at a bit of a loss. “The giant hole in the sky took care of that. All we can do now is try to fix it, and rebuild something better in the end.”

     “Is that why you stayed? I heard Cassandra tell you you were free to go.”

     “I like to think I’m as selfish and irresponsible as the next guy, but this…thousands of people died on that mountain. I was almost one of them. Even I can’t walk away and leave this to sort itself out.  Plus, if I follow you around, I can get another book out of it. It’ll be even more popular than _Tale of the Champion_ ,” he added, hoping to add a dash of levity to a conversation that had gotten far too serious for his liking.

     “Actually, I have questions about that,” Nelle said, seemingly ready to set existential questions aside for the moment. “You really knew Hawke?”

     “Yep. He’s one of my best friends. Nearly dying in the Deep Roads together tends to really cement a friendship, you know?” Varric sighed, missing his friend. Maybe he was wrong not to tell the Seeker…No. Liam had been through enough. So had Fenris. They deserved what anonymity and happiness they could find.

     “Is he a good person?” So much for trying to keep things light.

     “I think so. He cares about people. Sometimes more than they deserve, and for longer than anyone else would,” he replied, thinking of Blondie and the havoc and destruction he wrought with Hawke’s unknowing help. “I’ve seen him deal with impossible situations, and somehow come through with his sanity mostly intact. Not many others could.”

     For some reason, his answer seemed to darken Nelle’s mood further. He still couldn’t see her face well, but her whole body seemed to deflate, shrinking into itself. She didn’t say anything and Varric found himself rambling to fill the silence. He told story after story; the ones that hadn’t made it into the book, hoping to amuse her into a better humor. She didn’t respond, but she didn’t leave, either. By the time he realized that his strategy wasn’t working, at least an hour had gone by. He had just finished telling the one about Hawke setting up an insufferable merchants’ guild envoy for a truly epic comeuppance that never failed to get a laugh from his audience when a soft snore interrupted his punchline. He sighed ruefully at the realization that his best material had literally put her to sleep.

     Picking up the candle that had burned down to a bare half inch nub, he approached her side of the fire. She was asleep sitting up, in a fetal position, with her head resting on her knees. There was absolutely no way he could leave her like that. She’d wake up with a sore…everything. He called her name, hoping that would be enough to rouse her. No luck. Carefully, he laid a hand on her shoulder and gave a tiny shake.

     “Don’t touch me!” she snarled, rolling away from him and landing in a defensive crouch a few feet away. Varric raised his free hand, trying to project as little threat as possible.

     “Sorry, Dandy,” he said in the most reassuring voice he could muster. “It’s okay. You’re safe. You fell asleep by my fire. Everything’s okay,” he continued to croon soothing nonsense as she became more alert, taking in her surroundings and eventually calming down. She stayed for a minute, opened her mouth as if to speak, and then fled into the darkness. Well, that might make things awkward on the road tomorrow, he thought as he banked the fire and secured his desk, preparing for sleep. Still, it was worrisome. He could think of dozens of reasons she might react that way to being touched in her sleep, and none of them were good.

     “Any chance I could talk you into forgetting any of what you saw and heard just now?” He called into the darkness from the entry to his tent.

     “None whatsoever,” Nightingale replied.


End file.
